Makings of a Marriage
by TheNovelArtist
Summary: Marriage isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes, it's just two people making the most of it.
1. Chapter 1

If you asked Adrien, he would say marriage was basically a high-maintenance friendship with benefits. You had the tax kind, the physical kind, but then you had the kind that provided a soft place to land when a day got the better of you or a pillar of support when facing a hardship. His wife was the person he knew he could turn to whenever he needed help, whenever he was tired or hurting, for whatever reason. She was there. And he loved her for it. She was his best friend, one he happily entered into a union with and was worth every last hardship and trial and fight.

She was, for example, the kind of girl he could text during his lunch break complaining about the day, then send a similar texts throughout the day, and get a supportive response of "I'm sorry" "hang in there" "I have surprise for you at home".

So when he arrived home and could barely stand even though he was leaning against the door, he pulled strength from the hug his wonderful wife engulfed him in. "I'm sorry your day was so hard."

"Wouldn't have been as bad had my dad not been breathing down my neck."

She took his jaw in her hands and rubbed little circles with her thumbs on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, minou."

He let himself soak up her affections, lapped it up like a parched man finding water.

"I have a surprise for you."

He opened his eyes to half-mast, not realizing that he had closed them. "What sort of surprise?"

"A relaxing one," she said, reaching for his tie to remove it.

His grin got a little wider. "I'm listening."

Slowly, sensually, she slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and down his arms, removing his outer jacket.

He already liked this surprise.

"Upstairs," she whispered while unbuttoning his shirt. "There's a hot bath with Epsom salt for you to relax in, a glass of wine your name on it, and your favorite dinner that will be finished by the time you're done."

Adrien's grin widened as she undid the last button on his shirt. "That sounds miraculous."

She grinned at their little joke. "Go on. I'll bring up your wine shortly."

That sounded even better. "Okay."

"Okay." Just like she did with his jacket, she ran her hands up his entire torso to remove his shirt, but this time, she used his shoulders as a support to lean up and grant him a kiss.

"I think I'd also like a handful of those tonight," he whispered, her face still very close as she ran her hands down his arms, removing his shirt in the process.

"I think I can manage that," she said, pulling herself away with his shirt in hand.

Slowly, he found his way into the bathroom, where he could still see little tendrils of steam float off the water's surface. He smiled as he dipped a hand into the hot water, thinking it was just what he needed to the end of this terrible day. He kicked off his shoes, then shucked his pants before lowering himself into the hot water. He used a towel as a make-shift pillow, then let his eyes close as he let the heat take out a day's worth of tension.

He didn't know how long it was before Marinette patted into the room. He cracked an eye open

Only to spy her wearing his shirt.

Her hair was out of its ties, allowing her raven locks to pour over her shoulders and create a stark contrast to his white shirt. She didn't have a smidge of make-up on, but her lips looked plenty red and inviting as is, especially with that smile.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you, handsome," she said, holding the glass of wine out for him to take while bending over to press a kiss to his lips.

He loved this woman.

She then sat down at the edge of the tub, causing the shirt to hitch higher on her legs. He relished the sight—this woman was his wife after all—but his eyes drifted closed when she started running her hands through his hair.

With a moan, he leaned into her touch.

"You're my good kitty," she purred on a whisper.

The heat penetrated deep in his belly. "You spoil me, bug."

"You deserve it."

"I love you."

She paused in her ministrations, but then he felt her lips press against his, lingering long and tasting wine sweet. "I love you, too."

Adrien's face split into a grin. Yes, marriage was work. But she was his best friend, and with benefits like these, he would count the work worth it.

* * *

To Marinette, marriage was a partnership. It was like being Ladybug and Chat Noir all the time, having to navigate so many new situations like they navigate plans to catch an akuma. And sometimes those plans go south and they're left screaming at each other. But no matter what, there wasn't anyone else she could save the city with, so they'd have to lay down whatever petty grudge they held and make things work until they were actually able to come together and give a genuine apology.

Marriage was like that. Except apologies usually took place in the bedroom instead of on a rooftop. And involved a lot less clothing.

Marriages also involved a lot less physical pain. Even with a magic suit, there were few things that compared to having your rear-end handed to you on a silver platter by some manically smiling akuma.

She groaned.

Her wonderful superhero of a husband had left to grab something to help with her stiffness. She felt eighty years old at twenty-three and practically needed a walker to make it to the kitchen for some tea after the task of getting out of bed this morning.

Sleep didn't remedy her soreness this time around.

The door opened to reveal her husband walking in with a bag of things, likely from Master Fu. His remedies usually worked wonders.

"Okay," Adrien said, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Got a couple tea remedies and some oil that will help with the soreness."

"Perfect."

"I'll massage it into you."

Marinette looked up at her husband, whose smile was growing wider by the moment. But not a smug one, just a loving 'I got you' grin. One that always made her heart beat faster and tinted her cheeks pink even though in the past four years they've been married, they've done a whole lot more than just smile at each other. But then she realized, "It's not because you feel guilty, right?"

His lips tugged downward just a moment. "A bit," he admitted, knowing there was no use in lying to her. "But it's also because I love spoiling my precious wife."

She sighed, staring at him with a frown. They'd had this conversation so often that it was just easier to let disapproving looks fly between the two of them. But she just didn't have the energy to even to that today. "Fine. Thank you."

"Thank you for relenting," he said. "Bedroom."

She didn't need to be told twice. After slowly forcing herself up out of the chair, Adrien helped her make it to the bedroom, where she immediately collapsed face first onto the bed.

With a chuckle he sat down on the edge. He tugged at the hem of her pajama tank top, and Marinette let him remove it. She settled onto the bed with a smile by the time Adrien began rubbing the oil across her shoulders.

His strong hands eased the oil into her skin and slowly eased the tightness in her muscles. He worked his hands over her body with the knowledge of a masseuse, pushing along the curves and lines of her muscles in firm and steady motions. He then worked down her bicep before capturing that hand and leaning over to press a kiss to her knuckles.

Both times, she managed to boop his nose before he could pull away. It earned her a kiss to her temple each time.

"I love you."

"I love you, too.

He worked down her back again, slowly working his way to her hips and rubbing a little underneath the hem of her pajama shorts. Then her legs. She couldn't hold back the moan when he massaged her quads, his hands careful yet firm as he tried to ease the tension from her muscles.

Marinette didn't know how long it had taken him; he'd certainly taken his time, though. When he finished, he rinsed the oil off his hands and then laid down beside her on the bed.

Immediately, she slid on top of him, propping her chin on his chest as she smiled down at him. "Thank you."

He placed his hands on her hips. "You're welcome, princess."

Yes, marriage was a partnership. A give and take, push and pull, with ups and downs. But they had each other's back, in the good and the bad, and that's what made it worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

One of the worst things about being Chat Noir were the injuries that came with it.

Especially when they involve breaking his dominant arm.

The only plus side was that his darling ladybug doted on him like there's no tomorrow. Sure, there were the practical things like her helping him in the shower and her helping him get comfortable in bed. But then there's also her smothering him in kisses and asking if he's okay or if he needs anything and her yelling at him every time he attempted to do something himself.

So, on Monday, when he was getting ready for work, he rubbed a hand over his very noticeable stubble as he wondered just how to tackle this.

Marinette pouted. "Why can't you grow scruff again, kitty?"

"Because it's 'not befitting for an Agreste'," he snarked.

She scoffed, then took his chin in her hands and proceeded to melt him into a big pile of Adrien in the process. "I think it's just because women would swoon if they saw that the former poster boy of Gabriel can rock facial hair."

He chuckled while trying to ignore the way it made his heart flutter. "Thank you. Very flattering."

She shrugged.

"Seriously, though," he said. "I'm going to have to shave before I go to work."

"Okay. I got you."

"Have you ever used a straight razor before?"

"No, but I'm Ladybug. I can figure it out. Besides," she said with a bit of a blush and a flirty grin. "I love watching you shave in the mornings."

He grinned, then handed over the straight razor.

She hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter then beckoned him closer. Like he would ever resist her when it came to being close. He loved her touch. Craved it. A hug here, a pat on the cheek there, a brush of their shoulders in passing; he needed her touch. So when she was not only touching him, but caressing his jaw and neck as she applied shaving cream, he couldn't help but be putty in her hands.

She giggled. "Keep yourself together, sweetheart," she whispered.

He mockingly frowned but steadied himself by placing his hands on the counter on either side of her hips.

She picked up the straight razor, and Adrien grew a little nervous when she flicked it open. However, that was all forgotten when she angled him closer in a way that brought him right between her legs and his chest very close to hers. Try as he might to pull his head from the gutter, he really couldn't today. Not when she was so close and smothering him in affection and had her hands on him trying to keep him steady while running the blade slowly— _oh_ so slowly—over his cheek. He tried to focus on her adorable little bleep and the determined look on her face. And he almost succeeded, but then she shifted to get comfortable and her thigh brushed against his hip and he was a complete goner.

He hissed when a sting engulfed his jaw.

"Sorry! Sorry. Sorry," she yipped. "I'm so sorry."

"You're good," he grumbled deciding to stare up at the ceiling. "Just finish, we'll patch it later."

She didn't look convinced but did as asked. He tried to keep still. Really, he did. But it was really hard when his fantastic, doting, loving, adorable wife had him between her legs.

Legs that suddenly clamped tight around his hips. "Stop swaying," she grumbled. "I'm going to cut you again."

"And you think this is better?" he squeaked out.

"Hopefully."

Clearly, she missed the part where a man can't be between his loving, adoring, sweetheart of a wife's legs like a vice grip on his hips without him wanting a little bit more than just a shave.

She nicked him a couple more times, but not as bad as the first time. She at least finished and let her grip on his hips go.

And he moved out of the way and begged himself to calm down while mentally preparing for a very cold shower.

She looked at him quizzically. "Did I do something?"

"No," he squeaked out. He cleared his throat. "No. Not at all."

Her brow furrowed. "Liar," she said. "I know I'm not very good, and I'm sorry for nicking you—"

"No," he said, having to approach her again. "No, I'm not mad at you for that. You did a great job. Better than I could have done with my other hand."

"But you're upset about something."

He really couldn't hide anything from her. He sighed. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to… um… _relax_ when you have your legs clamped around me like that?"

Marinette's eyes widened with realization, then she burst into laughter. "Oh, my poor kitty," she said, taking his cheeks in her hands and trying to pull him close. "Did your mean ol' wife unintentionally tease you?"

He gave her a pained smile. " _Princess_."

She just chuckled, then she completely screwed him over when she hooked her heels behind his knees and pulled him closer, closer—

Damn it.

"She's really sorry," she purred out, pressing kisses to his neck. "She didn't mean to be so mean."

"Oh, I think she fully intends to be as cruel as possible," he complained, his voice a little warbly.

This clearly pleased her. She stretched up to reach his lips, her hips rocking forward and her body pressing against his.

He had to steady himself by placing his hands on the counter. He didn't know how they ended up on her hips.

"I don't think so," she whispered against his lips.

"Minx," he grumbled.

She pulled away so as to look at him full on, her smile wide and her blue eyes sparkling with playful teasing.

He sighed and stared back. "I still love my minx of a wife, though," he eventually whispered.

Her smile widened. "She loves you, too. Even though I think she should pay for tormenting you."

He quirked a brow, suddenly feeling the heat. "Only if she's okay with it."

"Oh, I think she deserves it." She then leaned forward to capture his lips again. "And I think you deserve it, too after the botch job she did to your pretty face."

He wrapped his arms, even his broken one, around her, happily letting go of the unpleasant thought of having to take a cold shower. "As long as she still thinks it's pretty, I'm okay with that."

"Trust me," she whispered, her lips just a hair's width away from his making the most distance between their bodies at that moment. "Even if you weren't pretty, I think she'd still love you."

…

Adrien got out of the house a little later than intended. Thankfully, he still arrived on time. Work was difficult with the broken arm, but he had an assistant to help him with those things.

And tease him, unfortunately.

"Can't hold a razor, can ya?"

Adrien sighed. "Marinette had to help me this morning with that task. Did a better job than I could have done with my other arm."

If Adrien thought that that would be the end of the teasing, he thought wrong. _Very_ wrong. By noon, the entire office knew his wife was the one that left a couple cuts on his face.

"I'm sorry," she said over the phone when she called to check up on him during his lunch break.

"Don't be," he assured. "It's fine."

"It's not like bothering you or anything, right?"

"Nah," he dismissed.

"So… it is?"

He shrugged. "It's not that bad. I'm just whiny."

"But it's still bothering you." she whined. "Oh, I'm a horrible wife!"

"There is no way I could possibly ever agree with that."

He got her talking about something else to distract her, hoping she'd just forget about him. And he thought he succeeded

Until she appeared in his office. With his aftershave.

"Sweetheart, I told you it was fine."

"But it's _not_ fine," she countered. She plopped down in his lap, straddling him and Adrien couldn't help it as his mind flew back to thoughts of their morning together. She unscrewed the cap and then started rubbing balm all over his jaw and neck.

Not that he didn't absolutely _love_ her hands all over him, but, "I'm at the office."

"I don't care," she said, massaging the balm into his skin. "This is my fault—"

"No. No. And No."

"Yes."

" _Marinette_."

"Adrien."

He just groaned and submitted because he was under no circumstances going to win this battle.

She finally left after spending several minutes peppering his cheeks with kisses and dishing out a few more 'I'm sorry's and throwing in a couple 'I love you's and then topping it off with a 'have a good day'.

Which, sadly, he couldn't. Not with the serious harassment that he was receiving. The wolf whistles, the waggling eye brows, the 'get it, Agreste'.

So, for the sake of his sanity, Adrien never _ever_ complained about his skin being irritated again. No matter how much he loved his wife, it might be for the better to keep his business and personal life separate as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

Marinette stood in the shower, reveling in the feeling of hot water washing over her aching body. The day had been hard enough without an akuma. If she had any more energy, she would be concocting curses against the man who dare send her an akuma as difficult as that one was.

She sighed, scrapping together all her energy to reach for her bodywash. But she just didn't want to move. Water rolled in rivulets through her hair, down her face, over her eyes as she stared at the bottle. One seemingly so far away on its little shower caddy rack.

Could she just fall asleep here, in the warmth of the shower? She felt like she could. The ache all over her entire body didn't want to go away, despite the hot water.

So lost in her thoughts, she barely heard the shower door open. Only once she watched a hand reach for the bodywash did she realize she wasn't alone.

"Are you doing okay?" her husband asked.

She leaned back against him, and his arms came around her waist. "Tired."

"I can tell," Adrien said, giving her a little squeeze. "You were staring at the bottle for a good while."

She hummed, reluctantly taking the bottle that he was pressing into her hand.

"Was the meeting hard?"

"Yeah," she said, finally opening the bottle and squeezing some out into her washcloth. "It was just… we agreed on one way to market this line, and we already had the entire plan set up and ready to go, and now, nothing is going to be ready on time, and some of the other designers want to come up with a new plan and—"

"Hey," Adrien said, spinning her around to meet his eyes. "It will be okay. It always is."

She hummed. "Yeah, but it's just _hard._ "

"I know," he said, taking her cheeks in her hands. "And I'm sorry."

The temptation to shut her eyes and fall asleep right then and there was strong. But Adrien removed his hands before she had the opportunity. "Shower first," he quietly spoke, grabbing the soap-laden washcloth from her hand. "Then straight to bed."

"Okay."

She let him wash her while she was loading up a second washcloth for him. This routine of theirs was one that Marinette had once been so shy about early on in their marriage. It had only started because Adrien had gotten injured and needed help in the shower. Now, she rarely thought anything of it. They were married; showering together was no big deal. It had become the new normal, and in the chaotic world of fashion combined with the double life of a superheroine, normal was grounding. Especially when there were some days where the evening shower was the only time she actually got to talk with her husband.

As she ran the washcloth in her hands over her husband, she couldn't help but stare at the mottled black and blues and purples and sickly greens that covered his usually flawless skin. "Does it hurt?"

"I could be asking the same of you, princess," he said, tapping her shoulder. "You look about as bad as I do."

She glanced down at her shoulder, only to see her skin matching the colors seen on his. She hadn't even noticed. Soreness everywhere didn't necessarily mean there were bruises.

When she forced herself to meet his gaze again, she shrugged. "I just hurt."

He gave her a small smile. "I do, too. Bed is calling my name."

" _Same_ ," she moaned.

He chuckled.

"Was the rest of your day any better?"

"No. My meeting with my father went about as bad as your meeting did."

"Sorry."

"I've come to expect it."

"I'm sorry about that, too."

It took a while for them to finish, their movements sluggish. When they did finally turn off the water—Marinette immediately missed the warmth—Adrien grabbed her towel and bundled her up in it, rubbing her down as though she was a child.

Then he raised the towel to her head, fluffing her hair with it before letting her peek out from the towel.

She snorted a laugh. "You are such a dork."

His smile grew. "And there's my lady."

The idea was fleeting, and how she had the energy to accomplish it, she didn't know, but she took his towel and threw it over his head, ruffling his hair. When she flipped the towel down around his shoulders, she took in the sight of his madly tussled hair, tendrils going every which way. "There's my kitty," she whispered.

His grin widened, and warmth shot through her body. She loved that smile, the one that was slightly lopsided and caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle and made his green orbs appear to sparkle.

And she loved that she was the one to cause it.

From there, they continued their bedtime routine. Adrien pulled on some sleep pants, then slid his shirt over Marinette's head before she could grab her own pajamas.

She frowned in confusion.

"Oh," he teased, his smile purely Chat Noir, "so you suddenly _don't_ like sleeping in my shirts."

She simply slid her arms through the sleeves. "No."

His grin only widened. He pulled her in, holding her close against his chest. She wrapped her arms lazily over his neck and rested in his embrace.

And by rested, she completely leaned all her bodyweight against him, forcing him to hold her up.

With a chuckle, he swept her up bridal style and carried her to bed. "Tired bug."

"Snuggle kitty."

He chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through his chest like a purr. Her smile widened.

He flicked the covers aside, then set her down on the mattress. She scooched over, allowing him to lay down beside her. They wasted no time in snuggling together, Adrien wrapping his arms around her waist while Marinette wrapped her hands behind his head. She pressed a long, lingering kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, kitty."

His hands disappeared from her waist, only so he could pull the covers up around them. "You're welcome, bug."


End file.
